Today is a holiday in the US, but the fool, me, is working. So I make good use of it and I am going to write to you all because I cannot do it individually to each of you. I apologize but I have no time now. Thanks for all the emails, the Facebook messages, and the calls. We read everything; all of them were great, either for the pieces of advice (that we are putting into use) or for the good vibe and the love.

Yesterday, Sunday, I worked. When I got home, Alex was at the verge of a breakdown (I think it’s post-partum depression, ja). It’s not that the girls behaved badly; not at all. Happens that the younger one, Samantha, had not eaten anything since they got home and was not very quiet; they couldn’t even take a nap. And other little things.

But later, we were together preparing things at home and went out to buy a few sweaters for the girls – didn’t have any – and other things we needed. So we went to a few places and they behave very well. We returned home around 8:30 and Fatima and David (you all know them) were waiting for us because they all had to meet each other. They were the first family or friends meeting the girls.
[Well, my mom and siblings saw them through the Internet. They all were really happy. We call Alex’s father and brother – they don’t have a camera – and without telling them anything we asked them to open their email. Alex’s dad started crying when he saw the pictures.]

Then the six of us had dinner at the table and everything looked “normal” for the first time (both ate very well. First time for Sami). The oldest one, Jessica, felt comfortable right away with Fatima and David. We started turning off some lights and turning down the music to begin the ritual of going to sleep; we all sat in the living room. Jessica for the first time did not think (I think) about her other family and fall asleep, very calmly, in Fatima’s arms. I sat Sami in my lap – going to sleep is an issue with her – and I slowly made her fell over me (she had never left me before); I rubbed her tummy until she fell asleep.

Sami woke up 5 times during the night: we only have to go and look at her for a few minutes (she doesn’t want us to touch her because she is grumpy) and she falls asleep again.

When I left this morning, Sami was sat on Alex’s lap and Jessi besides him, the three of them on the couch covered by a blanket. The girls were eating Cheerios and drinking milk. I gave Alex a cup of coffee, kissed the three, and left.

I want to tell that it’s very important to us to continue the relationship the girls have with those who love them well. We believe that the family that they were with is wonderful and we want to preserve that relationship with them. I don’t believe it’s gonna be difficult. But we want to talk with somebody who can explain how to make that transition easier for the girls and avoid a new loss every time they have to say goodbye.

We don’t know yet if we will be able to adopt them; we have to wait but we were told there’s a big chance. Somebody already asked us in the blog what about a boy; I don’t know anything because we are in a limbo. However, we had been talking last week about adopting an older child – one of those who are difficult to place – in a couple of years. And it may be a boy. But please! Let us enjoy this now!

It's like walking on a tightrope. It is like knowing what to do but having the feeling that we know nothing. It's like feeling the effects of the anesthesia after going to the dentist, but in the brain. I know where we are walking to but I feel disoriented. I know I love Alex even more but hardly have I been able to touch him. It is weird. Everything is so fragile.

The situation in which we received the girls did not help, so I give thanks that they are very well behaved. We received them with only the clothes they were wearing - including their wet diapers - and good news that they were not allergic to anything. Their social worker knew nothing: what they ate or when, nothing about their routine, what they liked and what no; nothing. She did not even want to give us her phone number; we wanted it just in case something happened during the long weekend. We had around 15 minutes between attempting to meet each other and signing the paperwork. In the end, the girls’ social worker told us if we had any questions. I politely replied: "For what? We are not going to get any answers anyway, are we?" I felt frustrated. She did not even come to the car with us.

So we took the girls and a car seat that they lend us – we only had one the little baby - and we left, completely into the unknown (Really we went to buy everything we didn't have, which was everything except the beds.).

Yesterday, Saturday, was weird because waking up was like starting from scratch again: their eyes said "who the hell you are?" and "where are we?" In the afternoon, we met with the family that had raised them for a long time. We promised it to their social worker. The girls’ eyes lighted up when seeing them: they were who the girls though were their mom, their grandma, their uncles. It was good because we noticed how much they were loved (I don't know because they could not keep the girls) and also because they were able to tell us everything we needed to know: what they liked and what not, when they go to sleep, their schedules, etc., etc., etc. The bad part was the farewell, especially for the oldest one. And to make it worst, the whole family was crying. Although we don't want to cut this relationship, I believe that it is not productive at this time. The girls must first get used to their new home, ours. Then, time will tell.

The little one has an attitude and do not like much to be told what to do (yes, a year and a half). She touches everything (All the ornaments of our apartment are now 4 feet or above; can you imagine? In a gay home?) but understands “no” and to some extent she behaves well. She has short (because it has not grown yet) and indomitable hair, large eyes and the lips of Angelina Jolie. She takes her time to go to sleep because she does not want to lie down and she doesn’t want us to touch her when she is falling asleep. But neither can she sleep without us watching her. I learned that I have to wait a few minutes until her eyelids have no more strength to stay open.

The other girl has the burden of being the oldest one, the burden of having gone through too many hands. Although hardly says a word, she speaks with her eyes and smiles. She is mature and very well behaved. She has eyes as large as her sister’s and lips almost as big. Her barely wavy hair falls below her shoulders. She loves pink and it’s hard for her to relax and be carried away by the innocence of her age.

The four of us are trying to know each other, to understand each other, to find solid ground. Already we have won the confidence of their hugs. I hope that soon we win the confidence of their eyes.

Today at 3 o'clock during my lunch break, our social worker’s supervisor called me. Today Friday is the beginning of a long weekend here and our social worker had gone out of the city.
The supervisor said: "I have two girls; but they must have a place where to sleep tonight. It is urgent. I need a response as quickly as possible." I cannot remember very well what she said after that. I was numb.
As I could, I asked her to give me the information that was available: I tried to remember the classes with the lists of questions. And above all, I said I needed, first of all, to return to work to talk with Alex.
When I arrived, I asked Alex to sit down and as soon as I told him that I had received a call from the social worker, his eyes were filled with tears. We both did not expect anything before the end of year; never occurred to us that it could happen this soon. I filled him with all the details like they were not yet completely free - although their mom already lost parental rights.
At five, we were going to the downtown Los Angeles offices to see them - so we thought about it a little but did not have doubts – with our feet and stomach trembling. Although I had desired that one of them were “he,” neither of us felt saying no. Nobody chooses their children’s sex.
We signed some papers and spend a little of time with the girls so they could get used to us. At six we headed to Target because they had no more clothes than the one they were wearing and we also needed diapers for the two.
One is 1 and a half, the other will be three in August.
It’s 11 pm and they just felt asleep. It wasn’t that easy: the oldest one had been really quite throughout the day, but started crying when we said something about going to bed. I am sure she misses her family.
It is time for us to go to sleep. If I can put what I feel in words, I will write them and show them to you. I am exhausted, but will I be able to sleep?

A couple of weeks ago, I talked with our new social worker, Perla. Mario, with whom we had been working since the beginning, was waiting for us to receive the approval letter to take a new position he had waited for a long time. It was very nice; he has been very understanding and we have always felt his support.
I called Perla to introduce ourselves so she could know something about us. She was very nice and told me that now it’s a matter of waiting. She says that cases like ours take between six months and 1 year to find a match. Exceptionally it takes less o more than that.
We have been over a month on the waiting list already. I am hoping to get a call before the end of the year.
So the best is to relax, to put our energy in something else, and to think about anything but not the adoption; the time will go even faster this way.
I guess it’s easier to say it than to do it.

"I don’t know how to explain what worries me the most; I say... a child is one of the most important responsibilities in life until he decides to leave; though as a parent - and I say this as a son - that responsibility never come to an end. But I suppose it is also the most comforting thing in most cases.

Previously Pablo spoke of his fears; we share some, others not. I believe that I have always had a paternal instinct since I was a boy. I am 11 years older than my younger brother. I still remember how much I expected him. It was not clearly his father, but I felt it was my responsibility to take care of him and I liked it.

Later, my older nice was born while I was working with mi sister in law; we shared diapers, children’s stuff…for almost three years. At the same time there was Pablo’s sister, who had a learning disability: I wanted to help her but couldn’t.

As I said before, I have always felt like a father or playing to be one. But until Pablo began to speak of a child... of adoption and always so serious about it… I had not thought about it seriously until that moment as something possible… and then my fears started to come up.

The Argentina’s social climax was not the best. I used to think that adoption was something very far away in the future; the laws did not allow it; what would have happened? How society would have looked at my child? How would he have been treated?

I knew that nothing was impossible, that we could have had a child in different ways; it might sound weird but I felt that. But, what after? Thinking about the future scared me. I have to say that I have never felt fear for me; I mean I have never doubted myself about taking care of a child. It was about being in his shoes trying to feel and see like him… in the school, in the park, at the supermarket. How people would have looked at him having two daddies? I felt that it was not going to be possible in Argentina. This is why I always said to Pablo yes but this is not the moment. I have never hid my fears.

Then it was when we decided to go somewhere else. Here things are much more organized; everything is quieter; and people are more respectful. It’s not that everything is perfect and I am not going to come across some jerk that it’s going to look at us weird or is going to say something offensive, but it seems that people are more open mind or at least they wouldn’t say right away what they are thinking. Here is more “live and let live.” Of course, nothing is perfect; I say it because even if we can adopt together as a couple, we cannot get married.

Life went on and it’s been a long time since Pablo asked me for the first time to be parents… and you know what? Jaja, fears are still there. I think about that society has something to do with our fears. I am not afraid about our parental skills at home, but I think about him when going out. I still remember that my mom would not sleep until we were at home those Saturday nights. And this is when we were teens; I cannot imagine when leaving my child in kinder or at school.

I also hope to have serenity and intelligence to go through certain moments. I am going to tell you something that happened a while ago; Pablo and I laugh at it when we remember what happened but it was certainly uncomfortable at the moment due to my reaction. Pablo, our two nieces - one of 6 and the other 3 year old - and I were eating hamburgers in a place where there was a room for children to play. The girls just wanted to play, of course; they would bit their hamburgers and run into the playground. We were not alone; there were other two girls around the age of our oldest nice. They all were running inside those tubes with ups and downs. At some point, our oldest nice came to us with an ugly face and her eyes full of tears; and what was worst, she had pieces of hamburger in her hair. I went to the other child because she has spitted on my girl; the mother was sitting there, eating without even paying attention to her children. So I went to tell the lady to take care of her girls to what she said: “You are paying too much attention to your girls; leave them alone; it’s children’s stuff.” I was lucky that Pablo came to rescue me at that moment or to rescue her. I must admit that I exaggerated a little, but who would not react?

I feel that our children are the reflection of what we are as parents and what we teach them. We should not forget, though, that they are independent beings that think by themselves; but who wouldn’t want to hug them all the time so to take good care of them always? So nothing bad happens to them.

I also believe that our fears are the same independently if we are gay or not; they are parents’ fears; it does not matter where they are coming from. I believe that we cannot stop worrying about our children, and what is worse, that those fears are going to mutate at different moments of our children’s ages. I know: maybe I am thinking ahead and I have to take it slow… step by step. Well, good that I am not always thinking ahead!"

"Because the desire to have a child has no practical purpose other than that of preventing humans from dying intoxicated by their own libido rendered towards their own self-esteem function.""And therefore that all human beings are, in principle, entitled to the offspring; not maternity or paternity, but "descendants." And under the label of human beings, launched in search of their narcissism, of trespassing loving themselves to other being that is the depositary of their failed dreams."Silvia Bleichmar

Although I have become very lazy in regards with reading – of books because I am always reading newspapers and the Internet - not too long ago I started to read a book that one of you recommended me: "Parents like any other: homosexuality and relationships" of Anne Cadoret.

The first part is very interesting because it opened my head to understanding how in other cultures the concept of family, father, mother, parenting, etc., is completely different from ours. The idea to transcend beyond our lives or leave offspring is particularly important for quite a few, but differs greatly in different parts of the world.

I always liked the idea of community, large family that goes beyond our core family, beyond our parents and siblings.

There is even - I do not know about other countries - a phrase in American culture I have heard used among certain people and that I like particularly: "It takes a village to raise a child." [Investigating a little I have just learned that it is an African proverb (thanks Internet) that shows that we are not islands, but part of societies, small worlds, or communities that influence us and to which we belong.]

Thinking as I write I am aware that this idea has being around Ale and me and several of our soon-to-be- parent friends because the society we live in alienate us a little and being immigrants does not help. Thus we have the concern that the "village" we need to raise our children won’t be there. I am talking about our fathers, our brothers, cousins or whoever - perhaps even a neighbor - that will give us a hand when necessary, when we have an emergency, or are there just because.

I've been raised in a family with my two paternal grandparents as a centre of gravity, and uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends all around them. And many adopted members: I have always had many uncles and aunts who were friends of the family.Above all, we had a small home behind my grandparents’ house (ay, how much I miss them. I miss, grandma, your food and the smell of the house when you were cooking. I miss, grandpa, walking with you holding your arm and I miss being seated on the other bed listening to the darkness of your siesta. How much I miss talking to you both!).

That’s the thing: I think I miss…

It is that my children will not have that that was so important to me: they will not have their grandparents to their fingertips, or their uncles or their cousins.But they will have their own tribe: they will have so many uncles and aunts and cousins (adopted as them) that they won’t miss what they never had. Also they will have their other family, the one on the distance, which will not be so far because of the phone and the Internet and our trips.

And Ale and I will recreate my grandfather’s story, who came with nothing - orphan without even family - and formed, together with grandma, a huge family with children and grandchildren and friends of one and the others. I just hope they will be with us and will love us as much as we did.